“What kind of burgers?” I ask, pushing off the railing.
She hesitates for a beat, sliding her gaze across the space between us. “They have bacon.”
I tip my chin in acceptance, and her eyes linger for a second longer before returning to the parking lot. We stare out together, neither of us having the energy or desire to speak again.
The silence is enough to protect us from the words we don’t know how to say yet.
19
TILLY
“I’m going to shower,”I announce.
The burger wrappers are back in the brown bag everything came in. My stomach is full, although I’m still a bit iffy on whether or not it’ll stay that way. The meat wasn’t pink, but I stand by what I said. The restaurant’s website looked like either the owners are ancient and don’t know anything about design, or it’s a front for something that doesn’t involve burgers at all.
Either way, it tasted good going down.
Rowe grunts his acknowledgment from his place on the armchair. I cringe as I stare at him, suspecting that it hasn’t been washed since the place opened. He doesn’t seem to care about that. As long as it meant he could sit away from me, I’m sure he’d sit on a pile of manure.
I rifle through my bag and grab the giant shirt I brought to sleep in, along with my soap. When I packed for this sudden trip, I wasn’t exactly planning on sharing a room with Rowe, so he can suck it up. It’s not like I brought lingerie.
That would have been fun, though . . .
“Don’t have too much fun without me,” I drawl, taking my things into the bathroom.
There’s no point in locking the door, so I don’t bother. The last place my brother’s best friend wants to be is in this tiny bathroom with me.
I turn the shower on, watching as the water spurts out for a minute before finally cascading properly. I’m quick, not lingering or daring to let my hair down to wash it. The tiles in the corner are black, and that’s enough to have my legs turning to stone. Once I can no longer smell the Wickett stable on my skin, I step out and use a scratchy towel to dry myself.
The reflection I see in the vanity mirror doesn’t startle me anymore. Ash might have been concerned about the weight I’d lost in Nova Scotia, but it’s already started to come back. Even living off microwave meals and the stew Tanner sneaks me whenever they make extra at the bunkhouse, I’m doing better than I was months ago.
I think the new medication I started on before leaving Nova Scotia is finally starting to work. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. The changes in me are absolutely not because I actually like being at Painted Sky. Or fine, maybe a little bit. I’m sure it hasn’t done any harm.
With a shake of my head, I slip my sleep shirt on. Now that I’m looking, it actually isn’t as long as I remember it being. Oops.
I spend another five minutes getting ready for bed before opening the door. The lack of reaction from Rowe grates on me, even if I don’t know whether I wanted one to begin with. Now that he hasn’t given me one, that’s all I want.
“Are you going to sleep in that chair tonight? You know it’s probably for watching people fuck, right?”
A pair of deepening grey eyes snap up from where they were staring at a phone screen. They cling to me, hot and sticky.There’s a flutter in my stomach, starting low and crawling higher. It’s foreign, almost an intruder.
“Why, would you prefer the sex chair?” he asks, a roughness to his voice that only intensifies that flutter.
Fuck, I feel like a teenager again.
The motel room is too small all of a sudden. With the two of us here, it feels like he’s hogging all of the air, leaving me no choice but to inhale the scraps already saturated inhim. His confidence, arrogance, and unfair good looks. Even the scent of his cologne is too strong.
I could make a run for it before I do or say something incredibly stupid, but in my current outfit, that would be a terrible idea. He’d chase after me, and I don’t trust myself not to blurt out something likeplease take me up against this dirty motel wall.
Forcing the blooming pulse between my legs to the back of my mind, I clear my throat and cross my arms. “No.”
“So, don’t complain about me taking it, then.”
“You can’t honestly be sleeping in that chair.”
He locks his phone and leans over his spread knees, keeping his gaze on me. “I’m not laying on the floor.”
“There’s a bed.”
